The School of the Undead

by Michael Woods

  ***

  Brenden had been left to wait alone on a battered old green leather couch just outside the office of the deputy head of the school. Brenden was not sure what to expect from the deputy - who Ms Halford had said would see him just as soon as she could find him - and despite feeling worn out by the strange turn in what still seemed to be his life, he harboured a nervous excitement about what lay ahead of him. Though he did not even think about whether he wanted to be accepted by the school or not, he was concerned that the institution would turn him away meaning he would have to leave without any idea about where he would go, what he would do or how he would fend for himself. He was sure of one thing, though, he would not return home. The warning Ms Halford had given him about this had scared Brenden and convinced him that it would be too dangerous to go back. The problem was, apart from his mother’s, he had nowhere else to go.

  As his thoughts turned to home, he wished that he still had his phone to see what his mother was up to; what she had said about what had happened to him; whether she was okay. But he had no idea where his phone was and he certainly did not expect to find any sort of internet connection on anything in the ancient building he had found himself in. Indeed, as far as he had noticed up to that point, he had not seen a single screen and the place was illuminated with nothing but the mellow light of pearl bulbs. In fact, it seemed to him that the modern era had hardly penetrated the walls of the school at all.

  To reinforce this very idea, a slightly lost-looking man with a shock of white hair - and dressed in a battered brown suit that seemed to have been in near continuous use since it was put together in the 1970s - appeared at Brenden’s side.

  “Are you Brenden?”

  Brenden nodded his head but avoided the man’s gaze, fixing his eyes on the untied laces of the man’s shoes instead.

  “Good, good. Please, come into my office.”

  In Brenden’s eyes, the space he entered was hardly an office. It was more of a large storage cupboard into which someone had squeezed a tired looking chipboard desk and two chairs. There was not even a window in the tiny space, all the light being provided by the single uncovered bulb that was hanging from the ceiling. Indeed, the only ornament that broke the otherwise spartan nature of the room was what looked to Brenden to be a black vase with a couple of orange-brown figures upon it, one with wings, the other some sort of musical instrument. The deputy swept a pile of cardboard folders onto a floor already coated with a layer of papers and books and signalled for Brenden to sit. The man then squeezed himself through the tiny space that separated his desk from the wall before collapsing into his chair.

  “Right then, Brenden. I guess we better get to it. I’ve brought you here for a couple of reasons. First things first, welcome to Tithonus. Next, perhaps it would be profitable to lay out a few things about this old place. I suppose it’s not too important to mention that while the building you’re in is much older, the school is about 300 years old. It’s amazing the place is still up to be brutally honest. Been here since the great change, you see. Well, I suppose that means nothing to you now, but you’ll find out about that later. So, let’s move on a bit.

  “The age of the school is really a consequence of its function,” continued the man. “The whole idea of this institution is to give instruction to those who have entered our world, and by our world – as I’m sure you’ve gathered by now – I mean that of the undead and the undying. There are a bunch of individuals around here that won’t like hearing such terms - political nonsense of course and you won’t get an old man like me changing my ways - but I digress. However, you get the gist of what this place is about, I hope. We’ve had a few problems with that before, you see, especially for those poor sods who’ve been affected by a bit of rot before we can get to them – and so my first question is, of course, do you actually want to stay here?”

  Brenden had almost stopped listening to the deputy, but he just about managed to remember the man’s question after a moment’s pause. He shrugged his shoulders a little and scanned over some of the papers that lay on the floor.

  “I suppose. Where else can I go?”

  The deputy let a moment pass before moving on as he could see Brenden was struggling to accept his situation.

  “Well, I’m very glad that you’ve decided to stay,” said the deputy after letting the silence linger a little. “Not everyone does and that’s not always for the best; either for them or for us. You see, one of the main things we teach people here is how we can support each other. If you go off alone, that’s just not possible. We’re not a big community really, despite what all of those films would have you believe. But those of us who are willing to work together have strived to create a community that protects our own and enables each and every one of us to continue on as we choose, whether that be alongside the living or not.

  “One of the first things that we’ll provide you with is instruction on how to take care of yourself now you’ve gone through the change. On the one hand, we’ll get all of those stories out of your head about who you are - crucifixes and so forth. On the other, we’ll also give you a fair amount of practical information, such as what to eat and what not to eat as well as how you should go about getting what it is you need to eat. We have a lot of people here who have stories that are just like yours, they understand and have survived to pass on what they know so they can help you. Our hope is this will help you avoid all of the mistakes they made. But if you do make some mistakes – and we all make mistakes - then just jot what happens down as one day you might even find yourself back here passing such information on to others.

  “I’m sure you’d also like to hear that we’ll set something up for you in the way of clothes and other essentials very soon. The school will also provide you with somewhere to stay during your time here, and we’ll even help you follow the path you choose to take once your time with us is over. With all that said, though, I’m sure a young chap like yourself will soon settle in. Also - though I do not mean to be presumptuous – many people decide to give back to the school once they’ve set themselves up in their new lives: but of course that’s a conversation for another time.

  “Now that we’ve got that out the way, I’d like to get to my second point. Ever since our school was established by our eponymous headmaster, this institution has strived to maintain a code of conduct for all of those who are similarly afflicted – or gifted if you would like to think of it that way. While the teachers here will go into detail about the code, there is one fundamental principle that we have tried our best to uphold – a principle that has been ever more possible to maintain since the burgeoning of what you might call modern medicine. This fundamental principle is not to kill any of the living, either to satisfy your own needs, by accident or for any other reason. Some - with the same, or a similar condition to the one we are both subject to - have tried to claim that they have passed on something that will enable a person to live on following an attack, meaning they have not really killed their victim at all. I need to stress that this argument is deemed as totally unacceptable here.

  “You see, despite what some believe, it would be a terrible thing if the living start to believe in us again. And I don’t mean as it will lead to packs of hunters trying to cut us all down: no, no. Of course, there will always be some who will try to seek us out and destroy us: there’s enough people in this world to supply infatuated fools for almost any cause. No, there are other problems. For instance, the impact on society would be enormous. Many would desire to become one of us, no matter the cost and others - for religious and other reasons - would believe it to be a sign of the end of days. Yes, and in a way, these latter sort could turn out to be right: if everyone were to join our community, it would mean the end of humankind. That is, unless we were able to develop some way to fabricate what we need through artificial means, we would all become something unrecognisable, terrible, and there would be no coming back. But, ah, I digress. Such talk is not for now.

 
“Now, where was I? Yes! As I said, we have a code and – as good a chap as I am sure you are – there is no getting around the point that your presence here means one thing: the code has been broken. So, there is something that I need to ask you, especially while it is still fresh in your memory. What can you remember about the person who attacked you?”

  Suddenly the grey eyes of Brenden’s attacker returned to him and the boy froze. He could think of nothing but those eyes, even the rather plump figure of the man that had attacked him faded from his mind.

  “Just tell me anything that you can recall.”

  “He had grey eyes,” Brenden said, with a voice that evidenced the boy was more than a little lost.

  The deputy nodded for Brenden to go on, but the boy dropped his eyes to the floor and for some time he said nothing more.

  “He appeared on the road,” continued the boy when he was ready to continue, keeping his eyes fixed on the paper-covered floor. “He didn’t look right. I think he said something to me. He looked like he needed help; I thought he might have asked for help. I guess… I suppose I didn’t get the best look at him before...”

  Brenden stopped speaking and even though the deputy gave him time to carry on, the boy said nothing more.

  “Thank you, Brenden. I’m sure that will help us. Still, I’d be happy if you could try to see if you can remember anything more. If you do, write it down and come to me as soon as you can. Now, by the looks of things you need a change of clothes and some rest. Dmitry!” shouted the deputy. “Dmitry, yes. Can you take Brenden here to his room?”

  “Of course.”

  Brenden leapt out of his chair and spun around to find the opaque form of a young man standing in the corner of the office.

  “Sorry to surprise you,” Dmitri said while failing to hold in a shrill giggle. “But there are oh so few opportunities to do that, and it can be so much fun.”

  “Dmitry! Now that’ll do. See if you can’t get the poor boy something from supplies on your way to take him over to his room. If you don’t mind, of course.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Chapter 2

  Amanda woke as if from death; another black, dreamless sleep transformed slowly into waking consciousness. She looked at the time and wondered why she was waking, before finally noticing the noise that had roused her. She stretched out her hand from under the thin blanket she used for comfort rather than the heat – she needed no heat – and caught her vibrating phone as it sporadically crept across the table.

  “Mmm… Yes.”

  “Is that Amanda Blake?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is deputy Martin Chester, from the Tithonus School. There’s been an attack just outside Radcliff and I think that the local police could possibly do with a hand. Or rather, I think it would be good for us if the police do not have to end up having to deal with the perpetrator.”

  “Give me a minute.”

  Amanda eased herself off the couch and acknowledged the rise of the burning hunger that had plagued her days for 2 years.

  “Just get through each day,” she whispered to herself. “That’s what they always tell you.”

  Opening the fridge door revealed three blood bags, a half empty bottle of white wine and nothing else. She poured one of the bags into a large glass and then stared at the viscous liquid for a moment just to show herself that she could; then she drank the whole pint in one go. She still hated the taste of iron that the blood left in her mouth and so she grabbed the bottle of wine to rinse her mouth out, before spitting the alcohol and the last remnants of the blood down the sink.

  She gave herself a moment for the blood to take effect, finally lifting her out of the deep drowsiness that greeted her first thing every day. After giving herself the opportunity to enjoy what she expected to be a brief period of clarity, she glanced over the mess that covered her apartment to find something to write with and on.

  “Yeah, I’m back. You still there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “What were you saying about an attack?”

  “We’ve just had a new arrival at the school; seems a decent enough chap, but a little beaten up about being buried and then pulled out the ground again, I believe. Anyway, the thing is, as he is here with us, it means that there has been an attack and one for which we haven’t been able to find the culprit thus far. We also don’t have that much to go on. No, not much at all. I asked the boy a few questions when he came in last night, but all he could give me was that the individual we’re looking for is male, on the chubbier side and in the possession of a couple of grey eyes. Anybody you know?”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “No, I didn’t think it would. Of course, this information narrows things down a bit, but our usual leads have come up short. So, after a few words with the headmaster, I decided it might be useful to bring in a bit of help. This only leaves me to ask the obvious question: are you interested?”

  “Interested?”

  “In having a look into the attack?”

  Like every other vampire at the school, Amanda knew full well what working for the school would mean: a salary of blood, a supply of which she was in need.

  “Maybe,” the young vampire replied just a little too quickly. “What else can you tell me?”

  “Not much that will be of any great help, or that you will not be able to find out for yourself after a few moments on the internet, but there are a couple of things.”

  “Go on,” said Amanda, already getting irritated at the deputy for not getting to the point right away, a tendency she knew the man possessed from her time at the school.

  “Well, the first thing is I happened to come across the possibility that we had ourselves a new member of our community when going through my usual trawl through the local papers last week. Hello, I said to myself, this looks like it really could be something.”

  “And, what was the information?” said Amanda, only half-heartedly trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

  “I read in the Radcliff Visitor that a boy had been killed while walking home from school. Obviously, this would not in itself pique my interest; the gruesome – that’s how they described it – details of the killing did. Indeed, they said that apart from a few odd footprints that disappeared into a field near the site of the killing, the only thing the police hoped could help track down the killer was the boy’s blood. And this is the point I was getting to: this was because the boy had been found on the side of the road with almost nothing in his veins. If they could find the blood, they’d have their killer. Obviously, the police considered it possible that some crazed loon had collected the blood to conduct some odd sort of ritual or to create a trophy. I had other ideas, of course. I dispatched one of the school’s collector teams on the night after the burial. Luckily, the fellow was not down for cremation. I just hope that he still has all his organs after the autopsy. But I suppose they knew the cause of death well enough, so there’s a chance. Still, he’s been a bit quiet since he arrived, but he seems alert enough. Anyway, I digress.”

  “Were there any other details?” said Amanda in an exasperated voice, wondering why the deputy had given her such a long-winded and oblique account to essentially inform her that the attack had been carried out by a vampire.

  “As I said, I wasn’t sure if the information would be of any great help.”

  Amanda put her phone down on her coffee table for a moment to take a breath.

  “Amanda,” said the tinny voice of the deputy. “Are you still there?”

  “Yes, Mr Chester, I am still here.”

  “So, what do you say? Are you interested in giving us a hand in trying to find some information on the attacker?”

  “Look, Mr Chester, I’m always willing to help the school, especially after it helped me, but you don’t really seem to have much to go on at all. And for all we know, the individual you’re sending me out to look for might be in Australia by now!”

  “Yes, of course, of
course. But, I would still like someone to have a look to see if they can find something, whatever little thing that might happen to be. I’d send someone from the school if I could, but we’ve lost a few good people recently - especially with all these jobs our community can get online these days – and we’re in need of an extra hand. Now, if you are otherwise indisposed at the moment, I could always see if there would be someone else willing to look into the situation. Though, I think I should say before you make up your mind that if you do decide to help us out, the school would be more than happy to allow you to use some of its supplies while you are on the case. You know, to ensure that you can carry out the work.”

  Amanda walked back over to her fridge and looked at the two remaining packs of blood she had left. The packs were not cheap and these were the last of the supplies that the school had given her in her supposed transition to life in the real world. She had nothing saved up in terms of money and despite looking for some time, she had found nothing in terms of work. Who would employ an 18-year-old or so looking girl, especially one with no National Insurance record and no work experience? 18 or so, she thought; the description of herself she had heard several times, even though she had actually been killed when she had already completed her university degree at the age of 22. Suddenly, it became apparent to her that it was no coincidence that the deputy was calling just as her supplies were about to run dry.

  “Look, Mr Chester, I don’t need your charity.”

  “Amanda, please. Whether you need charity or not is not my concern anymore, now that you’ve left the school. However, it is the case that I do need someone to have a look into this situation and I am genuinely short of staff – or at least the sort that I can actually send out into the world of the living. If I were you, I would just be glad that the Fates had taken it upon themselves to send a little kindness my way and accept that an opportunity had arisen at the same time as a need.”